by Gina Watson
Brook blushed, but he needed her to know everything that was in his heart, no holding back. At least her response said that she was feeling something.
“I took you for granted when you lifted me up and taught me how to live, love, and forgive. I see so clearly what I hadn’t seen before. You saved me. And I need you to keep me warm. Please, I’d kill to have you back, but I want life, not death. I need you, every inch of you, including our beautiful, wonderful, already much loved child that grows in your belly.”
He cracked the velvet box open and removed the ring. He offered it to her. “I don’t know how to tell you that if you marry me I’ll spend the rest of my days loving every ounce of your beautiful body, mind, and spirit. But I will do it. Maybe not perfectly, but thoroughly.” He held both of her hands in his. “Please say yes, Brook.”
Eagle woofed and looked from Brook to Cory. Then Eagle stepped forward and licked Cory square on the mouth. Laughter erupted all around. Brook lowered herself to her knees and into Cory’s waiting arms. Her hands went into his hair, and they kissed passionately on the stoop with Cory’s father, mother, and brother standing right there next to them. When they pulled apart, Cory placed the ring on her finger and a kiss atop both.
His dad offered Brook the flowers and said, “Brook, I like it when St. Martin men marry up. It makes the stock much better.” He winked at her. She laughed, and he helped her up. Cory jumped up right beside her.
“Welcome to the family,” Logan said. “St. Martins are all a little looney, but you knew that already.”
“I did. I guess that means I fit right in.”
Cory stepped back when his mother moved in to hug Brook, but he heard her whisper, “I’m so glad he came to his senses.”
Cory moved in for his own hug and kissed Brook again, this time a chaste kiss on each cheek. “You’re coming home with me.” She nodded serenely, just as she had at their first meeting.
Packing up took no time at all, and they were back on the road in less than an hour.
In the back seat of the SUV, Brook sat curled in Cory’s lap with her head under his chin. They stayed connected the entire ride back to Whisky Cove. Every half hour or so, Cory would kiss her on the head or cheek and whisper his love in her ear.
Brook stared at her ring often, occasionally holding it up to the light. “It’s beautiful. How did you know what to get?”
He smiled down at her in his lap. “I just thought of you.”
Logan had his phone out and passed it to her. “Actually, Brook, here is exactly how it went down.”
She hit play on the phone. Logan had shot in close-up, so Cory knew she could see the emotion play out across his face and in his eyes. She watched the video five times. Huge teardrops splashed from her eyes and onto the screen.
Cory whispered, “We better give it back, huh? You’re gonna drown Logan’s phone. That’s not a very nice thing to do.” Brook laughed through her tears.
It took over five hours to get back, so when they got to the estate, they took Eagle and Teddy, who had been only too happy to greet them, to stretch their legs.
They were out by the pecan grove when Cory said, “Eagle is no longer available to be an adopted companion.”
“Oh yeah, why is that?”
“Because he belongs here with our family.”
Brook began to cry. Cory lifted her chin. “Hey, what’s this.” He kissed away her tears.
“Nothing bad, I was just thinking about the last time I belonged to a family. It was before my parents died. That was the last time I truly belonged.”
“You’ll never have to worry about that again, baby.” He laughed and picked her up, turning them in circles until she squealed. “In fact, you’ll probably get sick of all the family you’re about to acquire.” She laughed again, and Cory sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. “I need to be inside you. Connected.”
With the dogs secure in the fence, Brook looked up at Cory and said, “Deer stand.”
“You read my mind.”
They climbed into the stand and each removed their clothing, until only love was left between them.
≈
That night, Cory was seated at the kitchen table at his house. His dad was out and it was just them, his family. Eagle and Teddy lay at his feet, and Brook was busy making dinner. Cory offered up a prayer of thanks. He’d almost lost Brook; that thought had his throat closing up and squeezing off his air. He gasped and shook his head to rid himself of the worry. Brook was by his side in an instant, a bowl of crawfish etouffee in her hands.
“Hey, I’m here.” She set the bowl on the table and took his cheeks in her palms, lifting his face. She placed a tender kiss on his lips. “We’ll live our lives together, you and me. Forever.”
The words she spoke healed and cleansed Cory. She straddled his lap, and he inhaled her essence long and deep. His hand slipped under her tank top, and he spread his palm across her abdomen. “I want children. Lots of children. I want them all to look like you.”
Brook frowned. “But I want them to look like you.”
Cory grinned. “We’ll see what we can do. And by the way, I love you.” Eagle came up to stand by the chair in his guardian’s pose. Cory turned to him. “Will you relax? I’m about to show your mother how much I love her.”
Eagle stood and placed his snout between them. “You’re going to have to explain to Eagle how things work around here,” he told Brook.
She smiled as she rubbed her face into his neck. His hands were caressing her bare back, under her shirt. She started purring.
“Hey, you’re going to be Brook St. Martin. Do you like the way that sounds?”
She lifted her head, pouting, “I thought you would become Corrigan Walker.”
Cory’s brow furrowed as he stared into Brook’s emerald-green gaze. “Is that what you want?”
“More than you know.” She winked at him and placed her arms around his neck and sucked his earlobe into her mouth.
“What the hell, I’ll be Cory Walker. It has a nice ring.”
Brook smiled against his skin. “What happened to my challenging man?”
He kissed her softly. “Baby, if you think I’m not going to insist you take my name, you’ve gone delusional.” Brook giggled.
She smiled against his mouth. “I’m going to become a St. Martin. I can’t think of anything I want more.” His erection pressed into her crotch. “Well, there may be one thing I want more than your name.”
≈
Brook was so happy that she could be delusional. Only she wasn’t.
She’d been given everything she ever wanted. The child growing in her belly would be a part of her and she a part of it. It would be a blood connection, and she’d cherish her child until her dying breath. It wasn’t lost on her that in time roots would grow under and around her until she was also entwined with the St. Martin family. She’d suddenly gone from being an orphan with no family to a woman with so much family her heart swelled from the abundance of love she’d received from them already.
With Cory’s admission of love and his commitment to spend the rest of his life devoted to her, she felt absolute peace. If she fell, if she faltered, he would catch her. Before she’d been alone, but now there was Cory. And family. And children. Generations to look forward to, dreams to plan for. She quivered at the future of possibilities.
On the drive home, when Cory’d cradled her in his lap, he’d whispered that she was the closest to heaven he’d ever be and that for her he wanted to be the strongest version of himself. He’d said she’d taught him how to live, love, and forgive, but he’d made her feel wanted and needed, given her life a purpose. She’d needed a purpose for so long.
She tipped her head down when he pressed his palm against her belly.
“There’s a baby in here, Brook. A baby we made.”
The awe in his voice had tears gathering in her eyes. She cupped her hand over his.
This man had given her everything. That she got t
o spend the rest of her life loving him and raising his children was a bonus.
She’d come back to Whiskey Cove because it was the place where her happiest memories rested. It seemed that tradition would continue. Her life had been a journey that led her back to the beginning. She loved beginnings and, in time, she knew she would come to love middles and endings too. She couldn’t wait to live the rest of her life as Brook St. Martin.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Gina Watson is author of the St. Martin Family Saga. She lives in Texas where she leads a double life: university instructor by day, romance writer by night. She loves to be contacted by readers to discuss all things romance.
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LINKS TO MY OTHER BOOKS:
SCORE
SHAMELESS
SHATTER
SUITED
SMOLDER
THE SAGA CONTINUES IN
THE EMERGENCY RESPONDERS TRILOGY:
Sizzle
Secure
Soothe
Coming 2014
SHATTER
Excerpt, book four, St. Martin Family Saga by Gina Watson
Available Now!
Excerpt Suited
Logan pulled into the gravel lot of La Bella Luna and jumped out of his truck. It was between lunch and dinner, so not much was shaking inside the restaurant. He walked toward the bar, where a young woman, her back to him, was filling salt and pepper shakers.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for Jessica Hunter.”
“You’re late,” the woman responded with a terse voice.
Logan leaned in closer. “How’s that?”
Louder she repeated, “I said you’re late.”
She had spunk. Or maybe she was majorly crabby. He hoped it was spunk. He didn’t want to partner with some bitchy woman. Whistling and studying the near empty restaurant, he said, “Shall I come back at a less busy time?”
He saw her neck tighten. Or maybe it was her back straightening into a board as she forced herself to curb her response. Whatever it was, he noticed the movement. And he noticed because he was focusing on the rust-colored hair that was tied into a thick knot at the nape of her neck. Pretty hair. Too pretty to be knotted tight—
She turned, and his breathing hitched. She was incredible. Truly breathtaking. And he immediately knew he was in trouble. Logan was a sucker for redheads, and with her milky skin and sizzling blue eyes melting into him, his heart started racing. Her lips were parted. Her top teeth peeked out and landed on her thick bottom lip as she began to nervously chew at it.
His mouth instantly wanted to do the same, to nibble and taste and explore her lips and the heat of her mouth.
She took him in with equal curiosity, scanning him from head to toe as her long dark lashes created shadows across her pink cheeks. He wanted to run his fingers through the lustrous hair so thick she had to double clip it. There was an abundance of it, and he thought he caught a scent of apple cinnamon. She was wearing black shorts and a white T-shirt with a nametag that read Jessie. She untied the black apron from her waist and motioned for him to follow her. He had no problem following those twitching hips.
Her office was full of file cabinets and everything needed to run her business. In the corner were stacks of T-shirts, shorts, and aprons. Logan assumed it was the standard uniform. A box of invoices and a ten-key adding machine sat on her desk next to an accounting log. The space was considerably messy, given how clean and organized the restaurant was. He took the chair next to her desk while she let out a grunt and dropped into her desk chair. A bare light bulb screwed into the ceiling was the only light in the office.
Jessie cleared her throat. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think this partnership is a good idea after all.”
Logan leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”
She raised a dark copper brow. “Yes, I do believe it is.”
She was certainly cute the way she asserted herself, restrained and calm. He wondered if she held herself back like that in the sack. He smirked and allowed a laugh to break free.
≈
Jessica thought Logan St. Martin couldn’t possibly think she would enter into a business partnership with him. The man looked like a bum. A cute bum, but a bum nonetheless.
He wore cargo shorts and a green T-shirt bearing an image of a frothy mug of beer. The T-shirt’s caption read The Drinking Games, only one will be left standing. His leather sandals had flopped—no flipping, just flop, flop, flop—all the way down the hallway to her office. To top it off, he was late and sarcastic. She knew his type. Nothing was as important to him as his fun and games. He’d be out of business within the year. Well, he could forget joining up with her—there was no way she’d have him add dead weight to her existing financial problems. She worked her ass off to make this place work and still her efforts might not be enough.
Women probably threw themselves at him because of his long sandy blond hair worn in fashionable disarray and his immense green eyes. He was tall and slim, with all-over facial hair clipped close to his square face. Damn, why’d he have to look the way he looked? Whiskers were Jessie’s weakness.
So yeah, damn him and his sexy smirk.
“This may be a joke to you, Mr. St. Martin, but this is my life. I won’t have you traipsing in here whenever the spirit moves you. If I can’t rely on you to be on time or to at least give me a courtesy call, then I won’t be able to trust you in a partnership.”
She stood to leave, but he caught her by the wrist.
“Sit down.” His voice was authoritative, and his smirk had been replaced with a piercing stare.
“Excuse me?”
“I know you need this opportunity to make your business thrive. You won’t find another distributor willing to provide the product up front for no cost until you deliver the goods. I understand sweat equity, but I assume you’re out on the floor filling salt and pepper shakers and napkin dispensers because money is tight. I take it you wait tables all night as well, that’s why you’re behind on paperwork in here. Look, I know business. It’s only my first year, but I’m operating considerably in the black. You need my help. And call me Logan. I’ll be calling you Jessie.”
She straightened her posture and tilted her head high at his words, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. After all, what he’d said was true. She did need his stupid beer.
“Are you prepared to hear my proposal?”
“I’ll hear it.” She’d extend him that courtesy, at least. She sat back at her desk.
“I’m looking to expand my distribution into certain socioeconomic markets. Your restaurant fits my criteria. I plan to use this place as a beta site for the restaurant marketability of my products.”
“A beta what?”
“Beta site. I haven’t distributed in restaurants before; yours will be the first. I’ll use La Bella Luna as a test site to iron out any kinks that may arise.”
“So essentially I’m your guinea pig.”
Logan smiled. “Exactly. But what you’ll get out of the collaboration is worth it. As I said before, I’ll not charge you up front and only cost after. It’s a win-win for you, but I might suggest changing your marketing and distribution avenues.”
“Oh, I don’t think I have much of those things. We exist on word of mouth and if people want to eat, they just walk through the door.”
“That may have worked before but in this climate, yo
u need what works today. And that means changes. For example, how much profit do you make from home delivery?”
“We don’t deliver.”
“How many calls would you say you get per day for delivery inquiries?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Hmm, you might want to keep track and consider offering a delivery service. It would be another market to expand into with next to no startup costs. And the market has started to turn, with people spending more on takeout food. You need to capitalize on that upshift. A radio blurb doesn’t cost that much, and it would do wonders to alert the public that there is an Italian restaurant tucked down this dead-end road. Tracking how customers hear about the restaurant is also a good idea.”
Jessie exhaled a deep breath. She clumsily plopped her head on her forearm and rested it on the desk in utter defeat. She sniffled.
Logan was on his feet immediately, “Are you okay?”
Her head rose, her eyes flooded with tears. “No, I’m not okay.” She sobbed. “You come in here with your aggressive eagerness and start throwing your big words around and picking apart everything I’m doing.” She was crying harder now, huge tears streaming down her face and falling to her lap. “And the thing of it is, you’re exactly right. I’m completely out of my element here. Since Brandon died, everything’s been steadily deteriorating, and I’ve been powerless to stop the slide.” She sagged in her chair on a sniff.
Logan squatted between her legs and looked up at her. She supposed he was trying to be comforting and non-threatening, but he was in her space. She eased back a bit.
“Who’s Brandon?” he asked.
“Brandon was my husband. He died five years ago. We’d had the restaurant for a while, and it was thriving. Then things started to change.”
Logan used his index finger to lift her face so they were eye to eye. “How about I help you and you help me? I’ll track a few things, see if there might be some sensible changes you can make to yield a higher profit. In turn, you’ll let me sell my brew. What do you say?”
